


Whumptober 2020 20 Alt 15 Carry/Support

by frankie_mcstein



Series: Whumptober 2020 [20]
Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Beating, Electrocution, Escape, Gen, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Mild Fluff, Passing Out, Rick is a mother hen, Sleep Deprivation, T.C. enables him, Whumptober 2020, desperate flight, heroic campers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/pseuds/frankie_mcstein
Summary: Whumptober 2020 prompt 20 Alt 15- Carry/SupportThey wanted info. And Magnum didn't have any to give them. It was all locked in Higgins' head. And she wasn't about to give it to without a fight.
Relationships: Juliet Higgins & Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV
Series: Whumptober 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947172
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47





	Whumptober 2020 20 Alt 15 Carry/Support

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, they get kidnapped again. I just can't seem to stop getting these two nabbed by baddies!

Magnum really didn’t think it could get much worse; he’d been grabbed off the street, his cell yanked out of his hand and smashed under someone’s foot, and hit over the head hard enough to make him black out. He was only out for a few seconds, just long enough for the men who had grabbed him to tie his wrists and ankles and throw him in the back of their van. He had tried to wriggle away as a piece of duct tape had been wrapped around his mouth and a second pressed over his eyes, but all it had done was earn him a vicious kick to the stomach.

He was trying to keep track of where the van was going, trying to time the distance between turns, remember if they went right or left. But his head was spinning a little, and he soon gave it up as futile. He’d just have to hope Higgins realized he was missing sooner rather than later. They had been working two different cases and were meant to be meeting to catch each other up. He’d been headed to the coffee shop when he’d been grabbed, so, with a little luck, it wouldn’t take long at all before the island was crawling with people looking for him.

He was more annoyed than worried; he knew from the short conversations they had managed that, while he had been spending all his time with a forensic accountant looking into insider trading, Higgins' case had taken her into the orbit of the FBI and a particularly nasty group of human traffickers.

He passed the time trying to figure out which case had gotten him grabbed. The fact that they'd taken him suggested it was his financial fraud case. But there was always the chance he was going to be used as leverage against Higgins, especially as human traffickers weren't known for their concern over collateral damage. As the ride got rougher and his body started to ache from the constant thumps as it was slammed and knocked into the floor, he redoubled his efforts to reason about the identity of his kidnappers.

A change of some sort brought his attention back to himself, and he realized the engine had been turned off. He tensed up a little, waiting for hands to grab him and pull him out of the van, ready to make a move if the opportunity arose. He heard the front doors open and slam closed, but the back door didn't open. 

He tipped his head, ignoring the darkness he was trapped in and straining his ears. Voices were filtering in through the closed doors, but they were distant and muffled. He kept trying to at least separate out the different voices, trying to get an idea of how many people were there. So the high-pitched cry of pain was impossible to miss.

His heart sank at the sound; whoever these guys were could well have had some poor random woman at their mercy, but chances were it was Higgins.

"Stop it, damn you!"

Sure enough, the English accent rang out clearly even through the pain and anger in her voice, and Magnum tried to strain against the tape on his wrists. If there were too many of them for her to take them all on, there had to be more than three; he'd seen her take on that many before.

_ 'Or she's taped up and can't move,' _ his mind offered.  _ 'Or she's already too badly injured. Or they're too heavily armed.' _ Magnum ignored his own train of thought. It was better to assume the worst, that they were hideously outnumbered, and deal with whatever the reality of the situation was later.

"Let me go!"

It sounded like she was trying to struggle, and Magnum reassessed the situation. She must feel like she had a vague chance of getting away, or she wouldn't risk antagonizing the men who, from the sound of things, had already hurt her. He went back to twisting his hands as far as he could, trying to get some slack in the tape. He hadn’t managed to make any progress before he heard the doors to the van being pulled open, and he quickly relaxed his arms.

“Out you get,” came a voice, the same one he heard calling his name right before hands had seized him and dragged him away from the sidewalk. Hands appeared on him again, pressing down on his legs. A quick moment of pressure and the tape holding his feet was gone, but he didn't have time to kick off. The hands grabbed his ankles and yanked hard. The movement dragged his hemline up, and he shivered at the cold metal floor of the van sliding over his lower stomach. Then he was being tugged up, feeling slightly dizzy and off-balance at the movements that he couldn’t anticipate or control.

“Move!” Same voice, but this time it didn’t sound like it was laughing at him. It sounded angry and threatening. The hands that had pulled him up by his arms vanished, replaced by a hand that shoved between his shoulders and nearly sent him sprawling to the floor. He took a few lurching steps, catching his balance, before managing to straighten his back and walk properly. He remembered plenty of times in the camp where he had been unable to walk properly and swore to himself that these men would not see him struggle like that.

“Now then,” purred a new voice as Magnum was pressed down into a chair and new strands of tape were wrapped around his already pinned wrists, “feel like cooperating now?”

“Not particularly,” came the unamused reply, and Magnum couldn’t help but smirk a little behind his gag; Higgins was angry.

He knew from experience that an angry Higgins was an uncooperative Higgins. If that was how she had decided to play it, he wouldn’t have any trouble following her lead. The trouble was, he realized, as his feet were taped to the legs of the chair, if she was being asked for info, it meant they were dealing with human traffickers rather than stockbrokers with an inflated view of their own prowess. This could turn very bad very quickly.

“You do know, of course, that we can make things very uncomfortable for you and your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend.” If possible, she sounded even less amused now than she had before. “Barely even my associate at this point.” 

Magnum knew what she was trying to do: take their attention away from him. He wished she wouldn’t and not just because he wanted to protect her from whatever interrogation techniques these guys knew. There was always the chance whoever was in charge would decide to simply shoot him if they decided he wasn’t worth keeping around. He liked his body just fine without bullet holes in it and with all his blood on the inside where it was meant to be, thank you very much.

The gag being ripped off took him by surprise, and he grunted at the sudden burn. The blindfold being pulled off felt like it might have taken half his eyebrows with it, and he felt his eyes water a little. He let himself wince, hoping it would be taken as the light burning his eyes but not really caring if the men watching knew the tape had stung.

“You know, I did a little research on you.” The man standing in front of him was Magnum’s idea of a stereotypical ‘bad guy’ archetype; expensive suit, fancy shoes, well built, greased back hair. “I actually admire you, Lieutenant.” And here he glanced over towards Higgins who, Magnum now noticed, was also tied to a chair and had blood trickling from her nose. 

He raised an eyebrow at her, or what was left of his right eyebrow (and wouldn’t Rick have a field day teasing him about man-scaping if he really had lost the hairs there?), and got the slightest of nods back. She was okay.

“I know the two of you are business partners. I also know that you, Juliet, were the one working with the feds. Now, that might mean that I can hurt the Lieutenant to make you talk. It might also mean that you shared the details of the case with him, and I can hurt you to make him talk.”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Higgins said quickly, her eyes cold as she glared at the man still standing in front of Magnum.

The smile that spread over the man’s face was chilling; no hint of joy or humor touched his eyes. He looked like he was contemplating something that, while wonderful to him, would be abhorrent to anyone else. Mangum had the awful feeling that he knew exactly what the man was anticipating that was putting that maliciously gleeful look on his face, and he felt his stomach twist.

“I’m so glad you said that.” And he walked across to stand in front of Higgins, smirking down at her. He licked his lips, tongue running slowly over the skin, as if he liked what he was seeing. “That means that, while my friends pass the time with your friend, I get to focus on you.”

Magnum tried to call out, to tell him Higgins was lying, that he knew everything, but the tape was being pressed back over his mouth, and he only got as far as “She…” before he was yelling into the gag. Higgins threw him a look, one that clearly told him not to worry about her. There was something else there, something dark and frightened, and he had the gut-churning feeling that she was expecting him to get free and leave without her. He tried to tell her that he would never, that, even without his military training telling him leaving a teammate behind was unforgivable, his very nature wouldn’t allow him to leave someone to be beaten and tortured.

But the man had grabbed the back of her chair and tipped it to its back legs, and her quickly smothered gasp of surprise seemed to echo until it was lost in the sound of the chair being dragged toward a door that Magnum hadn’t noticed before. He watched until the door closed behind them, then squared his shoulders as best he could as the three other men came to stand in front of him and blocked his view.

…

His body was throbbing. His head was spinning slightly, and that was slightly more worrying. The men who had been left with him weren’t exactly imaginative. They would throw punches until the chair toppled, kick him until they were bored or he blacked out, then wander off to amuse themselves with something else for a while. It was usually a few rounds of poker. Magnum knew there was only so long his body could hold out; no matter how repetitive it was, eventually, something would break that would cause real damage.

But what was really bothering him was the uncertainty that had been plaguing him the entire time. He thought it had been roughly three days since he’d been grabbed, at least, he'd counted the men eating nine times to his three, which meant it had been three days since he had last seen Higgins. He hadn’t even heard anything since she had been dragged away; no screams or cries, no hint of her voice. Nothing he could cling to that would tell him she was still alive.

In the absence of any proof to the contrary, he was operating under the assumption that she was alive and just beyond the door she had been taken through. He was still working on the tape pinning him to the chair, determined to get free and get to her and get them both safely away. The men who were with him hadn’t bothered to replace the tape, so it was slowly losing its grip on his wrists. It was taking altogether too long for his taste, but there was nothing else he could do. So, while he was being punched again, while the men laughed at the Navy SEAL who couldn’t fight back, he tugged and twisted and grit his teeth and waited for his hands to slide free.

And when they finally did, when he was finally half-free, it was just in time for the chair to tip again. He let himself fall, let loose a cry of pain behind the gag that was nearly as loose as his restraints as he landed, and closed his eyes. A foot dug into his stomach, making his body burn at the pain from the repeated blows, but he kept any hint of a reaction off his face, burying the pain deep. 

“Guess that’s lunch,” and laughter rolled around him at the quip.

He waited, listening to their footsteps retreating, hearing chairs being moved around. He knew their routine, the idiots. They would range themselves around the table, lounging in the chairs. One of them would inevitably produce a deck of cards, another would grab them all some water, and they would totally ignore him.

He waited until he heard the slap of cards being dropped to the table, then carefully tugged his hands, pulling his arms around and reaching down. His shoulders muttered complaints, threatened to rebel, but he ignored them. His hands didn’t much fancy moving either, his fingers cold and stiff, but he ignored them too. He needed the tape off his ankles; he needed to be able to react as soon as the time was right.

Once he was free, he put his arms back behind him and then groaned, hoping to get the attention of at least one of his tormentors. He couldn’t cross the room; he needed them back in front of him to make his move. Sure enough, he heard someone say something about a quick recovery time, and footsteps started heading back toward him. He felt hands grip the chair, pull upward, and he rolled away from it, springing to his feet with a swiftness that belied the pain it caused him.

The nearest man got a savage blow to the jaw that sent him to the floor. Mangum spun, saw the other two men looking shocked. One was reaching for the gun that was tucked into his waistband but moving so slowly that, even with his muscles trying to cramp, Magnum managed to beat him. He swung the pistol, easily spinning it as he did, and the grip smashed into the man’s nose. He slumped, eyes closed, and Magnum turned to the third man just in time to duck under the punch that was swinging his way.

He returned the blow, catching his opponent high on the cheek. Before he could do anything else, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around him. The first man had recovered and clambered to his feet, grabbing Magnum. The third man, split skin on his cheekbone leaking blood, grinned at the sight, but Magnum took advantage of having the support of another person behind him and kicked out viciously with both feet. The third man fell; the man holding Magnum was thrown off-balance. 

Magnum threw his arm backward as they fell, felt the man’s head snap back, and repeated the move as they landed. There was a dull clunk as his elbow forced the back of the man’s skull into the concrete floor, and the arms holding him dropped limply to the floor. Magnum rolled and clambered to his feet, feeling every minute of the last three days in every inch of his body. The third man was climbing to his feet too, fury written over his face. Magnum lifted the gun, knowing he didn’t dare fire it. He couldn’t risk alerting anyone to his escape until he found Higgins.

The man froze, eyes fixed on the gun, and Magnum lunged forward, dropping the gun and wrapping one arm around the man’s throat and tugging it back with his other hand. Hands clawed at his arm, but Magnum didn’t let up, kept applying pressure, even tried to pull harder. He needed this man out of the way, didn’t much care at this point if he knocked him out or killed him. He’d maybe feel guilty later, but he wasn’t going to risk Higgins’ life for the life of this man who was complicit in the suffering of hundreds of innocent people.

The body in his arms went limp, a rattling sort of gasp barely loud enough to disturb the air in the room, and Magnum let him fall. He dropped to his knees, panting harshly, every bruise and cut on his body throbbing, every sinew begging him to just please stop. But he couldn’t. He needed to find Higgins. He needed to get her, and they needed to get away.

He managed to reach out and grab the gun, got to his feet, forced his knees to straighten, forced his feet to move. The door Higgins had disappeared through got closer and closer, and his body’s pained whimpers got quieter as adrenaline kept trickling into his system.

_ ‘Find Higgins, get out, get help,’ _ he repeated to himself, chanting it over and over. The idea that he might not find her alive wasn’t allowed into his mind. He was going to find her, she was going to be able to walk, and they were going to get home so Rick and T.C. could fuss over them both like mother hens. She was probably still tied to the chair like he had been, being beaten. And he knew she could handle that. He knew how tough she could be when the situation called for it.

So, when he pulled the door open and stepped through, the sight that met his eyes stopped him in his tracks. Higgins had been chained to the wall off to the left, heavy manacles encircling her wrists and ankles. Her arms were above her head, streaks of blood standing out against the pale skin. Her face was bruised and bloodied, her hair plastered to her head by sweat. Her top had been ripped open, more bruises standing out almost garishly against the skin of her chest and stomach.

She seemed barely conscious, her eyes fluttering and her head hanging to the side, resting against one shaking arm.

“Ah, ah, ah,” came the voice that Magnum remembered as belonging to the stereotype. “I told you not to sleep unless I said so.” And the man stepped forward. Magnum hadn’t even noticed him standing in front of Higgins. He was holding what looked like a small cattle prod, and Magnum barely had time to take a single step forward before the prongs were being pushed against Higgins’ chest.

Her entire body jerked and seized, and a hideous, gasping cry was forced out of her as the electricity coursed through her.

Magnum kept moving as the stereotype kept holding the stun gun against his victim, grinning as her body shook helplessly in its restraints. Magnum needed to get closer; the gun was already pointing at its target, but his hands were shaking, and he didn’t dare fire until he was sure he wouldn’t miss and hit Higgins.

As he got within a few feet of the man, Higgins gave a quiet cry and fell back against the wall, the current finally being broken.

“Maybe now you’ll stay awake when I tell you to.”

“Maybe she won't.”

The stereotype spun at Magnum’s voice, Magnum pulled the trigger, and the man fell, the stun gun clattering harmlessly to the floor. Magnum stood still for a second or two, making sure the bullet had hit its target, that this man wasn’t going to get up. Then he looked over to Higgins.

Her eyes were open, the adrenaline from the electric shock snapping her back an exhausted sort of alertness. But she didn’t seem to be able to process what she was seeing. She didn’t track Magnum as he moved closer to her, her eyes fixed on a point behind him somewhere.

“Higgy?” His voice was hoarse, his throat dry- two bottles of water a day was far too little- but she blinked slowly at the sound. “C’mon, you’re okay.” And he reached out and put a gentle hand on her cheek, mindful of the bruises but wanting her to know that she was safe with him before he started trying to get her out of the manacles.

She swallowed hard, eyes seeming to strain as she fought to focus. Then, finally, after altogether too long, her lips moved, forming the shape of his name. Her eyes closed, a tear slipped down her swollen cheek, scaring him far more than her obvious injuries, and he forced his legs to bend so he could free her feet.

It took longer than he would have liked, and he was straining his ears the entire time to listen for sounds coming from the room he had just left, anything that would tell him the men he had left behind him were waking up. His hands were shaking, pulling too hard on her hand as he fought with the old metal, but she didn’t react. Her brown eyes were fixed on his face like she couldn’t quite believe that he was standing in front of her. She didn’t seem to realize her restraints were being undone, and, as the fourth one finally clicked open, she crumpled to the floor. 

The pained little whimper that was forced out of her made Magnum’s heart twist, and he ignored the pain it caused him to kneel beside her.

“It’s okay now,” he whispered, putting his hand back on her cheek. “We just need to get out of here.”

She rolled her head to the side to look at him, seeming to take a long moment to process his words. Then she nodded, a single jerk of her head, like she didn’t have the energy for any other reaction. And she slowly drew her legs under her, beginning the laborious process of getting to her feet.

…

He had no idea where they were. Somewhere in the forest, that much was obvious. But other than that, he was clueless. He had started out trying to follow the path the van had taken, but he was too worried about someone coming after them to do that for long. He hated it, having to drag Higgins off what was passing as an easy route and make her stagger over the rough terrain. Every step she took made her catch at her breath, made her fists clench at her sides, but he didn’t have a choice.

He made sure to stay one step ahead of her, trying to move the worst of the branches and bushes out of her way, trying to help her over the rougher patches. She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, but she didn’t seem to be seeing it, just as she didn’t seem to be aware of the way she was gasping for breath or the way tears kept flooding into her eyes. She was clinging onto consciousness, focusing whatever energy she had left on not giving in to the exhaustion and the pain so she could keep putting one foot in front of the other, and there wasn’t anything left for worrying about things like where she was going.

Magnum wanted nothing more than to stop, let her rest, let his own body rest. But if rescuing themselves from a prisoner of war camp had taught him and his brothers anything, it was that, sometimes, when all you wanted to do was stop, all you could do was keep going. So he reached back, wrapped his fingers around Higgins’ wrist, not even noticing the blood that coated his fingers, and made sure she kept moving too.

After another half an hour or so, his legs were shaking and his chest burning. Higgins wasn’t even gasping anymore, her eyes were practically closed, and all she seemed to be capable of was going wherever Magnum’s grip on her wrist told her to go. She hadn’t said a word even though Magnum had tried to raise some sort of a response from her. Every time he glanced back at her, she seemed to have lost even more color.

Finally, as he stepped over a fallen branch, she stopped. Her wrist slipped out of his grasp. It took him a second to realize, his hand hanging in midair as he took the next step forward then turned to help her keep her balance. He couldn’t seem to figure out what had happened for a moment, looking at her with his head tilted, confusion furrowing his brow. And then she dropped, hitting the ground hard.

Adrenaline flooded into him, and he leaped over the branch, legs folding as he landed. He just threw himself forward and reached out for her, pressing his fingers to her neck even as he rested his head on her chest, feeling for a pulse and listening for a heartbeat and watching for the next breath. The pulse was weak, the heartbeat rapid, the breath shallow, but they were all there. He let his eyes close at the rush of relief, and they wanted to stay shut. 

He was so tired, in so much pain, and Higgins was so far beyond done-in he wasn’t sure she was going to wake up without medical help. Somewhere in his brain was a frantic voice that was screaming at him that he hadn’t actually checked her over, had no idea what had been done to her or what sort of injuries she had. But it was so quiet. And he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why it felt so important to open his eyes.

…

It was getting dark when he woke up with a gasp and cry of pain. Someone echoed his gasp, and his mind flooded with the thought that Higgins had been unconscious when he had fallen asleep. He tugged himself upright, not entirely sure how he managed it, and peered through the gloom to see brown eyes staring at him.

“Thomas?” Her voice was just above a whisper, but it was the first thing he had heard her say for days, and he grinned at the sound.

“Hey there.” He held the grin as he saw her trying to respond in kind and, after a second or so, her lips curved up just a little. He stared at her as her eyes slid shut again, noticing how her breathing, still fast, seemed a lot deeper than it had been.

“How did… “ She swallowed hard, wincing a little. “How did we… ?” Her voice failed again.

“I got free.” He knew what she was asking. “I got you.” And he reached out to her, ignoring the fact that he was swaying just sitting on his knees. “Time to go.”

She nodded, obviously dreading having to move, but, now that she was a little more aware, she realized the danger they were in. She ignored his hand and rolled, wincing and biting her lip to keep quiet as she pulled herself to her knees. Magnum stood, then bent, sternly instructing his ribs to shut up as he helped Higgins get her feet under her. And the two of them staggered off, leaning against each other for support, each feeling like they could happily never move again if it weren’t for the other needing them. 

…

Magnum was surprised to find the height difference was actually helping. His arm, wrapped tightly around Higgins' waist, holding her close, was supporting a lot of his weight as he stumbled on, keeping him upright. Higgins had both her arms wrapped around his middle and seemed to be leaning against him at an odd sort of angle; he strongly suspected she was using him as a crutch while trying not to put pressure on the ribs that he was pretty sure were broken.

It was an awkward, lurching stagger rather than anything that would be recognized as a walk, but they were making progress. Whether they were heading toward civilization or whether they were going to suddenly stumble out into the edge of a cliff was another matter. One that was causing Magnum a little concern. It had caused him more concern earlier, when he'd had the energy to think of more than just ' _ left foot, right foot, don't drop Higgins' _ on repeat.

Somewhere, way back in his mind, was the thought that having to turn around would probably prove too much for Higgins. He was pretty sure she was rapidly sinking back into the terrifying state she'd been in before she blacked out. The thought kept fading then coming back. Like a wave on the shore. How long had it been since he'd stood on the stand? Left foot. Some time out on the surfski to decompress would be amazing right about now. Right foot. What about this cliff? Don't drop Higgins.

Higgins!

She was gone! Her hands gone from his waist! Her body gone from his grip! No no no! Where was she? When had he lost her? 

"Easy there, fella."

He had to backtrack. He could turn around and retrace his steps. Somehow. He had to. He couldn't leave her; he needed her to be safe. 

"Woah there, buddy. Your friend is right here."

Fingers resting on the palm of his hand. Was he lying down? His vision swam as he tipped his head to the side but cleared enough for him to see Higgins next to him. She looked awful, an almost gray tint to her skin. Her lips were pale, her face white. Blood and bruises were scattered over her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed to be struggling just to catch her breath. 

But she was right there. Her hand nestled in his grasp. 

Magnum didn't hear the frantic young camper shouting into his cell that they needed a rescue team of some sort, an air ambulance, the police, anyone. He didn't hear the older man's voice, carefully calculated to be calming and comforting, as he assured him and Higgins both that they were safe now.

All he knew was that Higgins was there, next to him, which meant she was safe.

…

"I'm still not sure how you managed to keep moving." Magnum didn't bother looking over at Higgins. He was sprawled across the chair and far too comfortable to want to shift.

"I didn't have a choice. I knew you'd never leave me behind, so I had to keep walking. I couldn't let them catch up with you."

He did glance over at that, staring hard at her. She sounded a little too quiet still, her energy levels still low, her body still sore. She was curled up on the couch, a light blanket over her. The bruises were fading, and the cuts were healing. Her muscles were still dealing with the repeated shocks and the strain from the restraints, but moving was getting easier. She tipped her head and met his gaze.

"I only kept moving because I knew you needed me to," Magnum confessed.

"You're both idiots," came Rick's voice from the kitchen, followed by T.C.'s ringing laughter. "Nothing would have stopped me from moving."

"Not even leaving a man behind?" 

"Nope. You keep up, or you get recaptured. Your problem."

"You don't mean that."

"Sure I do!"

Rick and T.C. kept arguing over the sandwiches they were making, Rick insisting that he would have gone on alone, something they all knew he would never do.

Magnum shook his head, knowing perfectly well Rick was deliberately engineering an absurd argument to lighten the atmosphere. He caught Higgins' eye again and was happy to see her listening to the pair in the kitchen with a smile on her face. He realized suddenly that he'd been worried he wouldn't get to see her smile again. Wouldn't get to talk to her again. Wouldn't get to indulge in one of their own ridiculous arguments again.

He'd been genuinely scared for her. And, from the way she was looking at him, her eyes unfathomable, she had felt the same way. She might not let him make 'ride or die' their official motto, but maybe she wouldn't object to something like 'I'll always support you.'

He made a mental note to run it by her some time, then turned his attention to the mountain of food that was being carried across to the coffee table. It was time to just relax into the support of his friends, his ohana.

**Author's Note:**

> So I kinda strained the prompt a little. Again. But I think it fits, the two of them supporting each other as they walk and then Rick and T.C. supporting their recovery. If you think it's too much of a stretch, maybe we can just pretend it fits?


End file.
